The Crystal Age
by Firefly-shy
Summary: This is the sequel to The Silver Age, and it WILL be updated and continued. AU, Set in Modern Tokyo, as part of her curse, Beryl has awakened ahead of the Senshi and Shitennou, creating lives for them that will ensure they never remember who they are. As a result, there is no Sailor Moon to protect the city. However, as Tokyo comes under attack, Mamoru remembers. SxS
1. Chapter 1

****Author Note: I'm picking this back up but with significant changes to the characters and plot line. Sorry for the long delay.

**Chapter 1:**

The Crystal Age

By Firefly-Shy

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon.

* * *

Chiba Mamoru.

Second year at Tokyo University, Komaba Campus.

Nineteen years old.

And currently staring at a Study Abroad brochure.

"America?" he mumbled to himself.

California would be nice about now, during winter in Tokyo. He eyed the form attached at the back and noted with displeasure the reminder to acquire parental permission.

"No need to worry about that."

He replaced the brochure but memorized the application dates.

Shouldering his bag, he made way toward the Gymnasium.

He was finished with classes for the day and wanted nothing more than to hit the gym and let his brain relax.

"Sire?"

He stopped so fast that the student walking behind him stumbled into him. He apologized and pretended that he'd dropped his pen. Crouching on the ground, he tried to clear his head and focused on the disembodied voice he'd just thought he'd heard. There was no one close to him that he knew (which wasn't a difficult feat, since he knew almost no one).

His head felt hot.

"I can't get sick now," he thought.

Suppressing a groan, he straightened and continued on his way with no further interruptions. But his headache grew steadily worse.

When he finally left the gym and returned to his room in the Mitaka Residency Hall, there was an almost unbroken silence. He had rented the room for almost two years, or at least it would be by that Spring, and enjoyed having the place to himself.

He had never bothered, in his Freshman year, to get to know his neighbors. He barely knew his classmates by name. He didn't really see the point since, by next year he'd have moved to the Hongo campus and would be living somewhere else.

He dropped his bag to the floor in an uncharacteristic moment of slovenliness, indicative, no doubt, of the intensity of his headache. After putting away his things, he finally slipped into the shower.

A few minutes later he lay on his bed, massaging his temples. He twisted to move underneath his blanket and accidentally knocked over his bag. A few sheets of notes fell out and something sparkling and substantial as well.

He caught the glint of it even behind his closed eyes and slowly turned to look at the odd golden object lighting up his room with a faint but steady glow.

Oozing out of bed, he bent to retrieve it and found it surprisingly light and warm to the touch.

"Where did this come from?" he asked no one.

The moment he made contact with it, it began to grow brighter. Finally it bathed the room in a light so bright he was forced to shut his eyes.

When he opened them four hours later, he was lying on his back on the floor of his room and the crystal was no where to be found.

But at least his headache was gone.

The pungent smell of burnt cookies wafted through the classroom, as her five-foot eight friend stared down at her burnt cookies, her pink panda oven mitts wringing each others' necks in pitty and despair.

* * *

"Bunny, this is the third time."

"I know."

"Valentine's Day is over today."

"I know."

"You can't give this to anyone. It's not edible."

"I know!"

Makoto blew her bangs out of her face.

"Well, it's not like you had someone to give them to anyway," she joked.

Usagi scowled.

"Neither did you."

"Don't be mean just because you burnt them again."

"Well," Usagi sniffed, "I wouldn't give them to the boys in our school anyway."

"I'd bake some for -"

Makoto stopped.

Usagi gave her a sly look.

"Semp-"

Makoto slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Tsukino-san!" her teacher called.

Usagi ducked her head and quickly dumped the bento crammed with rocks that vaguely resembled cookies into the trash-can.

"Bunny!" Makoto hissed, frantically trying to recover the bento box.

"Don't -"

The teacher stood before them both, looking down her nose at Kino Makoto.

"Transfer student."

"Uh - Sensei, I can explain-" Makoto began, trying to hide the incriminating evidence.

To her surprise, the teacher looked at Usagi and said, with a sigh:

"No need."

Usagi blushed.

"Tsukino-san, I pray good fortune on whomever these are for."

Sensei wasn't stupid; she knew perfectly well that the reason every person in the class had come to school with cookies and chocolates today was because it was Valentine's Day. Every year she had to suffer through the sheer idiocy of it all. Especially with girls like Tsukino and Kino.

She patted Usagi on the shoulder.

"Poor girl."

In those two words, Usagi heard her fate. She, Tsukino Usagi, the most hapless dimwit ever to walk the earth, was to be supremely pitied for the rest of her contemptible life.

"I'll never get married!"

The tears, which had once been so ready to gush out three years ago, now only wavered on her lashes, but this didn't stop Sensei and Makoto from ducking for cover. Usagi was known for her violent emotions.

Makoto looked at the bento, noticing that it wasn't the least bit salvageable, and unceremoniously dumped it into the trash-can again.

"Come on," she said, tugging the blonde girl beside her as Sensei announced the end of their class.

"I brought double portions for lunch. Let's eat on the roof."

"I love you so much, Mako-chan."

"Ah-ah-ah, one condition."

Usagi skidded to a halt, trying not to drool as she thought of Makoto's cooking.

"You have to promise me that you'll listen to me next time we have to fight -"

"Shh!" Usagi frantically thrust her hand over her friend's mouth and looked around to make sure no one was listening.

"I promise."

* * *

Katsuya glanced up at the traffic signal and then back down at his shoes.

As usual he was the tallest person in the crowd. Of course, he'd long since given up trying to moderate the looks he got because of his hair.

He happened to glance across the street and noticed a large billboard with a glamourous, yet cute actress sitting on a bubble chair, smiling. She was wearing a strange sailor suit - probably a high school product sell. He realized that he probably knew her name. She was blonde, but it was a trend among popular entertainers. Hamasaki had had blonde hair at some point - hadn't she?

He squinted at the billboard. No, it wasn't Hamasaki. Someone who favored her perhaps. Younger.

If Hamasaki and the unkown girl could have blonde hair, why couldn't he have unconventional hair too?

"Excuse me, grandfather -"

A middle-aged housewife, probably out shopping, stumbled against him as the light changed. He looked down at her and she stared at him for a full two seconds before blushing and bowing in the middle of the street.

"I'm so sorry - I didn't see -"

"It's fine."

He doubted she'd understood him. The look on her face told him that his low voice combined with his rather stern features and unusual hair had intimidated her.

Once safely on the opposite side of the street, she bowed very low and scurried away as fast as politely possible.

Katsuya sighed.

Not even middle-aged yet and he was already completely white. He caught his reflection in the glass of the office building he worked in and tried not to grimace. His boss had hinted that he might try dying it, but Katsuya privately felt that he shouldn't have to embarrass himself like that and after one quick talk, his boss had agreed. People tended to agree with him. That was the nice thing about being different in an intimidating way.

He was opening the door when he heard an explosion behind him.

Before he could think his body reacted, throwing itself to the side, away from the glass, covering his neck and head.

He looked up.

Across the street what looked like a cross between a man and an octopus with a bad case of chicken-pox appeared to be trying to upend a car and shake its occupants out.

He craned his neck to see if the police were present. One policeman held a gun pointed at the octopus-thing. His partner was staring at it; his radio forgotten by his side. The policeman with the gun made a decision and took a shot. There was a roar and a crash and Katsuya realized the bullet had only made the octopus-thing angry. And now it was coming after the policeman.

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his cell phone.

"Fukushima-san? Can you tell Endo-san that I'll be a few minutes late? I'm...uh..."

A car door went flying over his head to land against a parked car to the side of the building.

"Caught in traffic."

He replaced his phone and put his case down somewhere it wouldn't get scratched. On second thought, he took of his jacket and put it over his brief case.

It was only then that he wondered what in the world he was doing.

But it was too late for that. The octopus-thing had already managed to snag a young man and was holding him upside down, suspended from his ankle.

Katusya approached the monster cautiously, carefully rolling his sleeves and tucking his tie to one side. It was his favorite tie - pink.

"I think you'd better put him down."

The octopus-thing actually paused for a moment. It seemed to consider the man before it with some hesitancy.

He really just had that kind of voice. Or maybe it was the eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

The Crystal Age

Firefly-shy

* * *

Rei Hino.

Temple priestess and recent private school graduate.

Nearly eighteen years old.

Currently waiting for a light to change.

A screech warns her before the car goes flying over her head.

But even before that she's felt a tremor in the air - a feeling she's learned to trust.

She turns toward the sound. A glob that resembles an octopus is languidly rolling over cars in the busy streets. A white-haired man runs toward it. He catches her attention because he is the only person not running straight at her, trying to flee. As she watches him, she fails to get out of the way of the crowd.

She tries to push her way to the alley, away from the panicking people, but they swarm around her so close and so thick that she's afraid she'll be crushed.

At the last moment, when she's sure she'll have the breath squeezed out of her, someone grabs her waist and hauls her out. The octopus-glob rolls by, leaving slimy trails like a snail. The people who touch the slime begin beating themselves as if they're on fire. They try desperately to get the slime off, or to find some source of water.

Rei looks up into the face of her rescuer and discovers a pair of eyes as dark as her own looking down. A surly expression momentarily masked in concern.

"Are you alright?"

Instead of answering him, she sharply pulls her hand away.

Neither of them finds it strange that they, and the white-haired man, are the only people not running for their lives.

"You're welcome," he mutters under his breath.

"Aren't you going to help him?" she calls, as the dark-haired man starts to walk away.

He turns to see who she's talking about.

For a moment they are both lost watching the tall figure trying to get the policeman out of his crushed car.

The young man's dark brows furrow.

She decides not to wait for an answer.

"Hey, oih- you can't -" he starts to call out to her, but she doesn't turn around. Something about her graceful back, with its flowing black hair twisting against the virginal white of her robes sparks something in Mamoru's mind that is almost like a memory.

He finds himself following the silent girl toward the white-haired man in the torn business suit who somehow made a monster the size of a small fast-food restaurant drop its prey and retreat.

"California is sounding better by the minute," he grumbles.

* * *

Ami Mizuno.

College freshman at Tokyo University, special privileges, Komaba Campus.

Seventeen years old.

Working overtime in the student laboratory, Ami was examining several different cultures of ecoli. She was allowed, as part of her special privileges, to use the laboratories for special studies and at this point she was heading down the path to becoming a bacteriologist. She had decided in middle school that she much preferred bacteria to people.

This did not quite extend to her mother, a relatively well-respected doctor practicing in America. Ami had grown up there, and was only studying in Tokyo at her mother's request. Her mother's sister lived in Tokyo and Doctor Mizuno wanted Ami to spend a little time with her and her son before she came home to America for good. As soon as she completed her last year there, she would return to America to live and do her residency. Ami was counting down the semesters already.

A small tremor shook the table. She glanced up from her work and noticed that quite a few students had left, and that the halls were unusually empty.

After a moment of puzzling this out she decided it didn't concern her and promptly returned to her work, becoming so engrossed in her study that she did not notice as the tremors grew slowly.

* * *

Mack Abe.

Bartender, ex-amateur boxer, ex-patriot, ex- a lot of things.

Just turned twenty-one years old.

Brushing thick tendrils of brownish-black hair out of his eyes, he watches the clear liquid from the vodka bottle slosh into a glass. He sets it down with a soft thud and slides it across the table to the man sitting a few feet away. The man doesn't stop talking to his friend; the drink might as well have materialized out of thin air.

Mack is used to this.

He puts the vodka bottle back. He can't understand much Dutch, but that doesn't matter. The customers point to what they want and he makes it. He makes American drinks that the women like. And sometimes, when the normal cook is gone, he makes food the way his mother taught him.

That was why he was hired in the first place. An English speaker, over six-feet tall, ragged brown hair and odd eyes. His mother's features are normally superseded by his father's gift of a Western, aquiline nose. And because his hair is long and generally unkempt, no one notices his eyes.

He isn't naturally the silent type, but the lack of Dutch turns him into a tough-guy character. Because he's a little depressed, he doesn't mind this.

A spark of red alerts him to the television's current news flash, and even though he can't understand what the announcer is saying, even if it does sound a bit like English, he can make out from the pictures and the urgency in the announcer's voice that something colossal is happening in Tokyo, Japan.

And he thinks, for the first time in five years, of his family.

* * *

Mercurius. Stage name.

Nineteen years old.

Pop-star, maybe the biggest in Japan next to the indomitable V herself. At least, that's what his publicist said.

But he didn't believe his publicist, because unlike a great deal of the entertainment world, Mercurius, a.k.a. Saito Zenkei, had a brain. A very good brain, and well educated one at that. Despite the protests of his manager, he took college classes and was attempting to major in computer science and medicine, if he could ever get away from stardom long enough to take more than two classes at a time.

Zenkei was the product of parents, now divorced, who picked up religions as easily as they would have new cars, and he'd been born during the height of their Buddhist phase. The result was, as his publicist often reminded him, a truly unmarketable name. Which was why the management of Timmy & Associates had picked the name "Mercurius" for him when he debuted. He was one of their few solo artist ventures, and had become not only a talented singer, but had also gone on to make a few films. But as yet, he was still famous for his voice - clean, versatile, and surprisingly deep - and his unusual looks. The product also of an American mother of Sweddish ancestry, and a Japanese-American father already a generation removed from his own Japanese grandparents (who refused to speak to him since he had, like his father before him, married a Westerner), Zenkei did not look very Japanese at all. His very dark blond hair was curly, his eyes were light, and his nose was rather long. He could speak, read, and write Japanese fluently. He was Japanese by birth. But as a child he often received odd looks when he wasn't with his parents. When his parents had eventually split up (around his seventh birthday), his mother returned to America and his father moved to, ironically, Sweden. Due to their lifestyle of travel, Zenkei had been left with a distant cousin of no direct blood-relation. That distant cousin was now the soul beneficiary of Zenkei's wealth and success, and everyone, including his manager and publicist, thought she was his real mother.

Zenkei didn't mind that. He thought of her as his mother too. He even liked her sister, Manami Mizuno, who had been to visit their home twice in his life there with the cousin, and had on both occasions mentioned a daughter who studied fanatically and was always too busy to come with her.

Zenkei had been privately disappointed at this because his adopted mother, Ayami, was a retiring, shy sort of person and had few acquaintances, which meant he had few friends, and would have welcomed the chance to talk to someone his age.

But lack of peers developed a level of maturity in him unusual in a young boy and enabled him to deal shrewdly with the entertainment business, neglecting to fall prey to the all-too-common lure of the party lifestyle that was so popular with many of his fellow stars.

Zenkei reflected, as his manager droned on, that it was almost time for him to fly home to Okinawa to visit Ayami again. She always told him how proud she was of his "cute shows," as though he were still a grade-schooler singing in the shower. This thought made him smile.

He heard a loud crash. The smile faded.

"Well, if you hadn't put that there -" a female voice complained in loud tones.

On the set for the newest love comedy, based on the anime which was based on the game which had been made into a manga at some point, and through its various permutations had finally come to be called "Crazy Love You," Zenkei was waiting for his costar to appear and had been waiting for the past two hours.

There were two reasons for the uncertainty on the set. The first was that it was Zenkei's first major role in a film; the second was that he was playing opposite teen sensation Aino Minako, who was known for being the least reliable actress in the business. Beautiful in a playful way, spastic, dorky, inelegant, and somehow amazingly charismatic, especially on film, Minako almost never came to shootings on time, and frequently left early with no warning.

Everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time before her popularity wained and then, of course, her faults would no longer be overlooked by the agencies and companies and that would be the last of Aino Minako.

"Besides," as his publicist had once whispered to him over coffee, "We all know she dyes her hair and wears those outrageous color contacts. And she insists it's all natural."

Zenkei could understand some of this; after all, he looked Western for all intents and purposes, and though she had Japanese features, Minako's coloring was definitely not the typical of Japanese beauty. He'd never met her parents, but he assumed both of them must have Western ancestry - if not, surely she was adopted.

There was another crash.

"Or an alien," he muttered to himself, and continued reading his magazine article.

"Sorry I'm late," she chattered, entering the room. Zenkei nodded and continued reading.

"There was an octopus downtown."

Zenkei looked up.

"Beg pardon?"

"An octopus," Minako repeated, grimacing for effect, "A giant octopus. But, anyway, it doesn't matter that I'm late because our new assistant director isn't here yet anyway, and -"

"What's his name again?" someone asked.

"Kuroi."

"Ugh," Minako made a face. "Black's so unlucky."

"You're going to be unlucky if Endo-san finds out what your 'excuse' is for being late," a make-up artist quipped.

"Director Endo-san won't mind, and besides, there really was a giant octopus. Look on the news."

Someone actually turned the television to the news.

Zenkei dropped his magazine and stared at the screen with all the other staff of the movie studio.

Minako looked at them with her hands on her hips and smile on her face.

"See, I told you."


	3. Chapter 3

The Crystal Age

Chapter Three

* * *

_**Author Note**: This has been added, since the two stories will now be one._

* * *

From high above her office, Kuromoto Akane watched the figures on the streets walking back and forth. Most were hurried professionals and business people, trying to make it home to their harassed wives (or husbands), or children taking the trains home from school.

"There's so much that never changes," she murmured to herself, smiling a little. She would have liked nothing better than to have joined them at her own home, but she had a arranged a special meeting that evening for an important guest with a very tight schedule.

Her monitor buzzed.

"Hino-san has arrived, Kuromoto-san. Shall I show him in?" her secretary's voice rang out clearly.

"Yes."

Akane took a quick look at herself in the decorative mirror. Her black hair was pulled back smoothly and styled in a manner both professional and alluring. Red lips, perfect make-up, not a thing out of place. She smiled, smoothing her charcoal suit. The doors slid open.

A man in his early fifties, still attractive, with dark hair and eyes, entered with a purposeful air and they bowed to each other, Akane rising to offer him a seat.

"Well," Takashi Hino began, "How are you, Kuromoto-san?"

Akane nodded.

"Very well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Tolerable." He lounged in the chair with polish and grace, but his fingers were tapping the arms of the chair.

"And your daughter? She is almost ready to graduate, isn't she?"

Takashi nodded. She noticed a wrinkle around his eyes and mouth.

"Has she chosen a college to attend?" she continued, politely.

Takashi's face became a bit more strained.

"No, I don't think she will be attending college. We have other plans for her."

"Ah." Akane nodded.

"Marriage, perhaps?" she suggested, with a look of feminine understanding and proper interest.

Takashi glanced down at his nails.

"She's a bit young," he said, at last, still examining the nail,"I'm thinking of sending her to live abroad for a year or two. Get a bit of polish, you know."

Akane nodded, sympathetically.

"But, enough about this." He waved an impatient hand.

"I don't mean to be rude, Kuromoto-san, but I'm a busy man."

"No, I quite understand, Hino-san. I asked you here today because I wanted to let you know about an opportunity that may be coming up soon."

There was a glint of interest in Takashi's eyes.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Akane said, smiling slowly, "Star Entertainment Company is losing its president this year."

Takashi frowned.

"I've heard of the company," he admitted, "Very wealthy, but I don't see -"

"I've decided to place one of my own people over there," Akane continued, "As an executive director. He will be moving into the position of company director and president this year. The company has been doing very well, but I believe it can do even better. With a sizable investment, of course."

Takashi's face became quite immobile.

"And, why should I make such an investment?" he asked, quietly.

Akane's small smile returned as she played with a pen on her desk.

"Let's just say," she replied, "You'll want a strong ally when you go up for election this year."

"What do you mean by that?"

The man's voice was no longer calm, but cold and suspicious.

"You are going against Osaka Hikaru. He has many supporters and the recent publicity over the comments you made about the environmentalist rights have made you a bit...unpopular."

The only sign Takashi gave that her words had hit a sore spot was an almost imperceptible tightening of his lips.

"Believe me," Akane continued, fixing him with a suddenly direct stare, "I can make sure that you receive the publicity you need to win the election. But only if you help me expand the company's influence in the media."

Takashi hesitated. Her words had shaken him.

"Why do you want to help me, Kuromoto?" he asked at last.

She rose from her desk and walked to the wall that was floor to ceiling glass, the same she'd been looking out of earlier.

"I might say that helping a powerful man to an even more powerful position is simply a good move for me," she replied.

"But, the truth is.."

She turned to face him, placing her hand on the arm of his chair.

"I know you've been through a lot in the past and you're a good man, Hino-san. I think this city needs us, frankly. The state of crime is insupportable, for one thing, and the Osaka organization is doing nothing to fix that."

Takashi remained silent, but his eyes started to light up.

"Most of it can, of course, be traced to the foreigners," she added.

Takashi cleared his throat.

"Am I to understand that you are proposing a partnership? For the good of Tokyo?"

"Absolutely, Hino-san. As the city's mayor, I can't help but want the best for our people. For our country. And, of course, for you."

Takashi looked down at his hands, folded quietly in his lap.

"You are certain that I'll win?" His tone was light, but his eyes demanded assurance.

Akane smiled.

"With a media company that tells the truth," she replied, "We can get your message to the masses. We can set the record straight. And I can help you take Tokyo, and Japan, into the next century. I can be a powerful ally."

Lurking at the back of her smile and her words was the hint of a promise that the opposite was true as well.

There was a brief silence between them.

Finally, Takashi rose.

"I will make a small investment," he said, "For now. You understand, of course, that my name will not be mentioned until I say so?"

Akane nodded.

"And, if you can do something about this misunderstanding about the environmentalists," he added, brushing his pants, "We will consider the full investment."

Akane bowed. Takashi returned the bow.

"Oh, Hino-san."

Takashi turned with his hand on the door.

"Please give your daughter my best. I'm having a little part for some friends of mine, some civil servants and a few politicians. Perhaps she'd like to join us?"

Akane's red smile was not lost on Takashi. He returned it with a small one of his own.

"I think," he considered, "That she will be happy to accept your invitation."


End file.
